


New Cape

by glowingGalaxies



Series: New Cape AU [1]
Category: PKNA - Paperinik New Adventures
Genre: Gen, Yes...., over in the discord we were talking about an au where donald's the AI and uno's the hero and, so here's a drabble of donald and uno (or odin yknow) meeting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 05:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowingGalaxies/pseuds/glowingGalaxies
Summary: “Hello, Odin Ducklair!”He'd hate to admit it, but he jumped. A little bit. The last thing he was expecting from this overly complex contraption was avoice. And why was it so… garbled and hard to understand?A face materialized in the orb. It looked, as far as he could tell, to be an average duck wearing a sailor hat.





	New Cape

Odin sighed, and moved to flip the light switch to turn on the lights in his father's old office.

He didn't notice that they flipped on before he made contact with the switch.

Everett Ducklair, famous inventor and owner of Ducklair Tower, had just vanished without a trace. As far as the vast majority of the world knew, anyway. His three sons were slightly more informed- he was retreating to a monastery in Tibet, not to be disturbed under any circumstances- and that meant they had to deal with the press fallout.

Solomon had taken care of the actual public speaking, that was his strength (although Odin wrote the script for him). Duilio kept the nosier reporters away, hopefully _not_ scarring them for life in the process (but Odin was likely to have to deal with the consequences of that soon enough).

And Odin was in charge of both of his younger brothers, the entire company, and literally everything else he'd left behind. It was very like his father to run off, avoid all his problems, and leave all the responsibility for them to someone else. It was tiring.

But he couldn't afford to let their public image slip- however he felt about Everett Ducklair, he was still Odin's father, and he still expected him to follow his instructions in the event he someday came back. No matter how exhausted he felt after the first day. It was only going to get easier once the press let up.

As he walked into the room, it occurred to him he'd never been up here before. His father always kept his secrets until the day they came crashing down, so it wasn't exactly a surprising revelation. But it did seem odd that he'd make a building with 151 floors, and make him swear not to tell anyone- not even his brothers- about the topmost one. Couldn't anyone just count them and figure it out?

His father was infuriatingly illogical at times.

The room was definitely not what he'd been expecting. When his father told him he was in charge of his office on the 151th floor, he'd expected a desk, some chairs, maybe a rug. In retrospect, though, he shouldn't have thought he'd do anything the normal way, and considering he was an inventor, a large, open space made sense.

The strange console in the middle of the room, connected to other panels and screens along the walls, was the one thing he couldn't figure out. Wouldn't it make more sense to have it against the wall so there weren't cords everywhere, and to provide more room for inventing? If he ever got the chance, he'd have to ask.

It seemed to sense his movement as he approached it, as the sphere in the center lit up, bright blue. Around him, the other machinery began to hum as well.

“Hello, Odin Ducklair!”

He'd hate to admit it, but he jumped. A little bit. The last thing he was expecting from this overly complex contraption was a _voice_. And why was it so… garbled and hard to understand?

A face materialized in the orb. It looked, as far as he could tell, to be an average duck wearing a sailor hat. A blue, slightly pixelated effect over the duck's face suggested it was a computer projection, not a physical head.

“Are you the reason this floor is secret… whoever you are?”

“Call me Donald! Your dad built me, I'm an AI. It's nice to finally meet you in person!” 

Well, that sounded like the kind of thing he'd do. A mechanical hand came from a panel somewhere, and he cautiously shook it. “What's wrong with your voice processor?”

Donald gave him a strange look, and Odin could quite literally see that he was processing the question. At first, he thought it might be due to the complexity of a functioning AI program slowing the Tower's otherwise almost instantaneous connection speeds, but then he noticed that none of the consoles around Donald seemed to be doing anything. It seemed he was literally thinking over the question, trying to remember. What kind of AI had his father built? Was this still a prototype, maybe?

“It broke a while back! I told Everett not to fix it, I feel like it gives me a little more character. I don't just sound like some dull machine! I've gotten so used to it I guess I forgot I ever sounded different.”

“Well, I suppose you're not wrong. Were you just… thinking... a moment ago?”

“It's part of my programming! Everett wanted me to be realistic, almost human, so I could act as a moral compass for him. He felt like he was getting too distant from his goals- helping the public, maybe?- when he stayed cooped up in here all day.”

“And he refused to come talk to one of his sons instead, or even go outside more. That's unsurprising.”

Donald laughed, and despite the broken voice processor, it was… a rather nice sound. Even if he hadn't intended for that to be humorous.

“It's nice to have someone else up here! Everett's okay, but he gets kinda boring. I wish I could leave, but…”

Odin frowned. “Don't you have cameras around the tower?”

“It's not the same. I usually just watch TV or the news instead. But Everett gave me a high level of empathy, and watching the news when I can't do anything about all the, yknow, muggings and robberies and supervillains… Not to mention Scrooge McDuck. How can he keep all that money when there are people without homes in Duckburg? I'd love to teach him a lesson in being less greedy.”

“Everett’s also rich, you know.”

“Yeah, but whenever I'm mad at him I just donate a bunch of his money to a charity somewhere. I'm already connected to his bank account.”

Odin had to stifle a laugh at his father's face upon seeing his own AI turning against him. “So you've been helping him run his business, then?”

“Not really, I don't have the head for all this business junk. But I am pretty good at thinking outside the box! Or, y’know, sphere.” He grinned.

“So… what are you supposed to do now that my father's gone?” That was the one thing he couldn't figure out. But Everett must've had some purpose in mind if he left Donald turned on. He never liked to get personally attached to his creations.

Donald frowned. “I'm just supposed to take care of the tower and maintain it. I can't really help you run the company, after all, unless you want to make sudden, large donations to charity.”

The smile Odin hadn't realized was on his face vanished. Did his father ever think _anything_ through, making a sentient AI and then giving it nothing exciting to do? Cleaning bots would have sufficed for a task this dull.

“I'm sure we'll be able to come up with something more interesting for you than tower caretaker. Just give me a few days.”

\-----------------  
A few days passed, and Odin had been too preoccupied with the company suddenly on his shoulders to give the problem any real thought. But as the elevator let him out on the 151st floor- he quickly found out Donald was in control of that too- the AI's beaming face told him Donald may have solved his own problem.

“Hey, Odin! If I had an idea, but I needed your help, what would you say?”

“I'd say I'm awfully busy, so I can't be too involved in whatever it is, but if it's something small…”

Donald's head tilted. “What if I told you this was something you could do outside of business hours?”

“I'd say I'd be awfully interested in finding out what this idea was.” Odin set his coffee down on the desk Donald had moved into the room for him with a small smile. He'd learned by now that Donald hadn't been kidding when he said he could come up with unusual suggestions to problems that somehow managed to work out. He suspected his father had built him as much as a creative mind to bounce ideas off of as he was to keep him in line. Even if the former possibility hadn't occurred to Donald.

“You're not gonna like the idea when you hear it, but give it a shot. Just tonight, at least.”

That wasn't exactly a promising start but, well. If this would somehow loop around into something for _Donald_ to do-

“Why don't you become a superhero? And I can be your AI buddy!”

Odin nearly choked on his coffee. He hated to sound hyperbolic, but never, in a million years, would he have guessed _that_ would be the pair of sentences coming next. “A… superhero?! As in, a vigilante that runs around in the dark and punches supervillains? There's no way _I’d_ be able to do something like _that_.”

“Ah, phooey, it'll be great! You'll get more exercise,” Donald replied, giving Odin a look. “And I'd have something fun to do- teach you how to be a hero!”

He had meant the statement on his ability to be a superhero as a comment on how busy he was, but leave it to Donald to take it as an excuse to make fun of him for not going outside very often. He decided to ignore the obvious question of why Donald was convinced he could teach someone about being a superhero, and instead asked, “What would I even wear?”

“I already thought about that, and made you this! I designed it myself. I know you love green, so I used a lot of that, but there's some blue details because, y'know, I like blue.” As he spoke, two mechanical arms brought out an outfit that did, admittedly, look like a legitimate supersuit. Leave it to his father to make an AI that could learn and was _stubborn_.

To avoid seeming like he was giving in too easily, he sighed, and stared at the costume for a while before taking it from him. “Fine. Just for tonight.”

He had the feeling that if he gave Donald an inch, he'd take a mile, but somehow he'd already accepted that. At least the AI was excited about it.

**Author's Note:**

> rn I'm just leaving this as the single drabble, but if I feel inspired later I might write some more snippets for this au and upload them separately?? we'll see


End file.
